


Scenes from a Winter Mission

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Supernatural, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Cute Kids, Fireplaces, Harkstiel, M/M, Snow, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes from a Winter Mission

Castiel's pulse pounded, adrenaline surged through him like an electric current. He and his volunteer troops crouched behind the thick snowpack ruin of a fort left behind by previous combatants.

"So, Lily, Henry and I will provide cover. While they're distracted, the rest of you charge Fort Jack. If we can breach the enemy walls, they'll have nowhere to hide," he explained. Two forts were sketched in the snow, dimpled with pinecones and twigs to represent the soldiers. "Are we all agreed?" Castiel asked, looking each of his comrades in the eye. He was sober, intense with focus. Six small heads nodded, the multicolored pompoms on their knitted caps bobbling.

"What does 'breach' mean?" asked curly-haired Bernadette, dark eyes wide with excitement. She pressed her mittens to her windburned cheeks.

Castiel reminded himself to use simpler words. "It means 'break through,' Bernadette. Like when your kickball went through the car window this spring."

Somehow, Bernadette's eyes went even rounder. The wee beginnings of a smirk turned her mouth as she nodded again, and Castiel tried not to worry about her. He peered over the top of the snowfort wall, and ducked as a snowball nearly took off an ear. Jack must have sentries posted.

"Okay, I need everyone in position," Castiel said, shooing his troops to the edges of the fort. Lily and Henry huddled up to the wall on either side of Castiel, each one holding an armload of small, tight-packed snowballs. In a stroke of brilliance, Henry filled the belly pocket of his coat with them and reached for more. The snowballs bulged out around his middle, until he looked like a blue quilted-down snowman, himself.

"Ready?" Castiel asked.

Once again, six heads bobbed in unison.

"On three," Castiel said, and counted down. At one, he and his tiny lieutenants popped up above the walls of their fort. "FIRE!"

Snowy hell rained down on Fort Jack. Castiel had chosen Lily and Henry for their spectacular aim and throwing arms. Within four rounds, all of them were lobbing snowballs over the enemy walls - into enemy faces, judging from the screams. Fort Jack was too busy dodging a hail of frosty cannon fire to get off more than a few shots at Castiel's dragoons. He, Lily and Henry stood fast, unflinching even when snowballs screamed past their shoulders or clipped their cheeks. They had comrades to protect, and it would take more than a few flesh wounds for them to let their team down. In five more seconds, Bernadette, Clint, Yva and Brandi made contact - and the walls of Fort Jack crumbled under their fury.

Triumph! Castiel held out a fist to Lily and Henry as they'd taught him, each one bumped by another set of small knuckles.

"Badaladaladala!" Henry laughed, fingertips spidering away in an arc.

"Badaladaladala!" Castiel and Lily replied, their own hands dancing in the sharp December air. Though he wasn't terribly sensitive to cold, Castiel knew a peculiar, welcome warmth. It began in his chest and spread outward, wrapping around him like an embrace. This was nothing like battle with his siblings, all terrible flashes mixed with sober, intense _purpose_. But the sense of unity - that hadn't changed. He ducked under the edge of the fort wall and hurried to the edge of it, gesturing his lieutenants along.

"Now we—" Castiel began, interrupted as a torrent of snowballs from behind knocked him into the fort wall. It cracked under the impact and toppled over, taking the angel down with it. There were squeals on either side of him, and under a hood of caked snow Castiel saw Lily, face down, arms curled around her head to protect her face. Shrieking and giggles echoed up and down the hillside.

When the onslaught stopped, Castiel rolled over onto his back. He peered up at his attackers just as a heavy boot came down on either side of his hips. Jack grinned down at him, silver sunglasses reflecting Castiel's red, snow-crusted face. Four of _his_ troops stood with him, each one with a few snowballs at the ready.

"Nice try, Hot Wings," Jack chuckled.

Castiel gestured at the ruins of Fort Jack. "We still breached your defenses."

"And it looks like _you_ breached your own."

Reaching up, Castiel patted the shards of snowpack wall. He laughed, full and hearty, and let his head fall back. "I did."

Voices rose at the edge of the park, calling for the children. Jack reached down to give Castiel an arm up, and the two of them herded the kids to the sidewalk. They transferred their charges to a quartet of babysitters (who, even months later, still goggled at Jack and his Hollywood dimples) and made their way home.

'Home' was a brick two-story behemoth from the 1800s, tucked in a neat row of houses just like it, across the street from the park. It was late afternoon, holiday lights winking at them through the trees in the dusk. The church on the other side of the park rang out the five o'clock bells. Castiel let himself be owned by the idyllic peace for a few minutes, and tucked his hand into Jack's elbow.

"I don't understand how you got behind us," Castiel said, frowning as he reviewed the afternoon, "The trees are _not_ that thick."

"You weren't watching us the whole time, Castiel. Didn't you have someone standing guard?"

Next time, Castiel resolved, he would have _multiple_ sentries.

Jack let them into the foyer and they spent a few minutes on the rubber mat, patting the last of the snow from one another's coats. Castiel unwound the deep green scarf from his neck - or started to, anyway. Jack caught hold of it and leaned into his space. "Allow me." Winding the ends of the soft merino wool around his fists, Jack towed Castiel towards him - helped in no small part by Castiel himself. Their lips met and Jack's hands cupped Castiel's jaw, fingers swathed in the smooth, ticklish green wool.

Castiel's world folded down like an origami box, encasing and isolating them together. He tasted Jack and his blood caught fire, swabbing out the last of the faint chill from the midwestern December afternoon. Woodsmoke and cold clung to the folds of their coats, dropped to the floor as kisses turned hungrier. It was a scramble for the first soft surface then, a laughing backward shuffle until they fell into the oversized leather couch in the greatroom. 

They sprawled together, Castiel's thighs draped around Jack's hips, and pressed chains of kisses into each other's skin. Jack's tender explorations brushed over Castiel's shoulderblades, feather light, every touch intensified in the dark. Fingertips sifted through his hair, and tingles rolled along his scalp. He hissed and Jack's warm breath washed against his throat in turn, accelerating when Castiel pushed up Jack's shirt, fingernails skating along his soft belly. 

"Jack," Castiel breathed against Jack's ear, shivering in sympathy, "Your clothes are wet. Let me undress you." His fingers dipped to the waistband of Jack's trousers.

With a soft note of agreement that seemed half purr, Jack pushed Castiel's hand down a little more. Needing no more invitation, Castiel rolled onto his knees, popped the button on Jack's trousers, and dragged the fabric down. Jack lifted his hips to help. The weight of his erection bobbed against his stomach, radiating heat as Castiel curled down to touch; to brush his lips over the tip. Jack's scent wreathed around him, enticing and dark. Even out of the shower, he made Castiel want to _lick_ him. Now, he smelled intoxicating, and Castiel inhaled deep. He took Jack in, tender and slow, glorying in the subtle stretch and arch of muscles as his partner's body relaxed beneath him. With the first rush of pleasure, Jack's body opened for him - even his knees fell a little further apart, always offering more access. More invitation to touch. To taste.

Time seemed to slow and urgency faded between them. Castiel took full advantage of the little intermission. He treated Jack to long licks, interspersed with slow pulls. He liked the fullness of it, as the breadth forced his jaw open wide enough to notice the stretch. "What do you want?" Castiel asked once as he released, knowing his breath and his voice could be felt as well as heard. He took another tender taste while Jack thought it over.

The answering chuckle reverberated through Jack's body, all the way to Castiel against his thigh. "You still haven't finished stripping me," he said, fingers coming down to thread through Castiel's hair, "just couldn't wait?"

Warm invitation and patient desire turned Jack's voice to honey. "No," Castiel replied, and rose to kiss his mouth to see if the taste matched the luscious sounds. Jack's hand tightened in his hair as he tasted the spicy salt of himself Castiel's lips. The groan he purred into Castiel's mouth electrified them both.

Castiel pulled away and sat back on his calves. "Sit up."

"And?" Jack teased.

Castiel tipped his head. And what? _Oh._ "Sit up, _please,_ " he huffed.

"Good man." Still laughing, Jack pushed himself back against the arm of the couch. Castiel finished the job then, working through the layers of Jack's shirts. He took every liberty as he went, hands smoothing along the planes and curves of chest, shoulder and hip. Naked, Jack seemed larger somehow, too big and wide and warm to be contained. Castiel wanted to drape over him like a cat on a sunny windowsill. He straddled Jack's hips, pressing his body as close as he could. Through the fabric of his own trousers, Castiel felt the heat of Jack's arousal, and the pressure of its fullness against his thigh. Jack's shuddering gasp was cold in Castiel's mouth.

Jack's hands clenched around Castiel's head, with a sudden force that surprised, as he dove for a heady kiss. When he pulled back, Castiel felt his hands drop to the bottom of the sweater he wore, open the buttons and slide underneath. "You forgot something," Jack whispered, tugging at the soft jersey of Castiel's undershirt.

Separating from Jack even for the moment required to undress seemed a cold and tragic idea. "Mm." The barriers vanished with a little application of will, to land - neatly folded, of course - on a nearby armchair. For good measure, he'd summoned their oversized bottle of lubricant to the floor beside the couch.

Jack's soft laugh brushed the pulse point of Castiel's neck. 

-

A few hours later, Castiel sprawled on the sofa alone. Eyes closed, he basked in the glow of the fireplace, and heat like the press of a hand on his cheek. Soft sounds echoed up the hall from the kitchen, but for the moment, everything seemed far away from him.

This winter had been their own private snowglobe world. Work kept them here; kept them entertained when the town was claustrophobic. They'd found an ounce of peace and happiness here, but Castiel knew it would shatter eventually. Some tragedy would usher them back into the real world.

He wasn't sure he'd be ready to leave when it did. Some part of him was already relieved at the prospect.

Jack returned a moment later, and a steaming mug of something landed on the floor beside Castiel's trailing fingertips. Rich, sugary tendrils of steam curled up to him, and Castiel closed his eyes all over again. "Thank you," he said quietly, still thoughtful.

"Pleasure," Jack replied with a grin. He tucked himself in against Castiel's back, skin to skin. For a few minutes, that was enough.

Dark droplets of chocolate swirled lazily in the foam of Castiel's mug. He watched it, eyes half lidded, chasing the tail of a question. "You don't seem like someone who'd want contentment," Castiel said at last.

Behind him, Jack made a noncommittal sound. "I've had it, a few times. It has its merits. Like this, right now," he said, and punctuated the sentence with a kiss to Castiel's shoulder.

"You're contented with this."

"Depends on what 'this' we're talking about," Jack murmured. He creeped a sip from Castiel's mug. 

What 'this' was he asking about, really? The moment, here and now, or the state of Jack's life in general, or the nature of their relationship? After a frustrated minute or two, Castiel volleyed the conversation back into Jack's court with a sigh. "The 'this' you were referring to."

"A night by the fire with handsome company? Wouldn't pass an opportunity like that."

The answer was, and wasn't, everything Castiel expected. "I understand," he replied, and took a long pull at his cocoa. The silence stretched out between them, and Castiel could think of nothing more to say.

"Something wrong, Castiel?" Jack asked after a few minutes.

Castiel lay like a stone in Jack's arms, looking for an answer that would put an end to the conversation. "No," he said. Nobody would have believed his tone; not even the very gullible children he saw nearly every afternoon in the park.

The crackle and billow of the fire, and the exponential expansion of Castiel's regret filled the space. He wished he'd never broached the subject, not even offhand, and now every moment of silence felt like a chasm. All his fault. "Jack I—"

"I'm _not_ 'contented' with you, Castiel," Jack cut him off. He said the word like a scrap of profanity.

Castiel stopped, steeped in misery, and listened.

"'Content,' to me, is complacence. It's the same - always, every day," Jack said.

Castiel held his breath.

"Sometimes that's nice. Sometimes knowing that's all there is, it's - comforting." His voice went from wistful to flat between breaths. "But that's all it is. You, Castiel," his fingernails bit the lightest amount into the spot between Castiel's shoulderblades, "are not the kind of creature to get _contented_ with. There's more of you to find, and you know what I want?"

All through Jack's speech, energy built in Castiel like electricity, like water behind a dam. When it finally burst he turned over, hand laid with overdone care against Jack's cheek. What he _wanted_ to do could have easily killed Jack; could have built galaxies with the explosion. His body trembled as he struggled to find gentleness.

"To keep looking," Jack whispered, teeth clamped around the words like a a child about to storm a snow-packed fort; "to find _everything._ "

Castiel could have written poor sonnets about the unfamiliar emotions that plunged through him then.

But sonnets were hardly their style. "We should hunt for tracks."

Jack groaned happily. "Oh, _god_ yes."


End file.
